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I held up one index finger. “Not helping.” He snickered.
We had dared to go further that night. An unspoken agreement saw us exploring more of each other’s bodies. My mind’s eye flooded with memories of that back seat, the way Bennett had been looking up at me with his head in my lap. He was all teeth and spit and I was so turned on I didn’t care. I came within sixty seconds and the burst surprised him enough that he reeled back as I shot a torrent that arced a foot in the air.
After countless rounds of us exchanging head, we eventually moved on. That August night held the record for the hottest day of the summer. Bennett and I had spent the day on the river. By the time the stars came out, we had joined our bodies together, fumbling and shaking, but determined to reach the ultimate level. And then it was nonstop sex after that initial breakthrough. God, we must have made love a hundred times before he had to leave for college. Basic training started for me not too long after that.
Everything changed. We only reconnected twice after that summer. His college and my deployment, we had only two instances of precious few hours to physically connect the only way we knew how. Communication eventually slowed. Bennett entered the second semester of his sophomore year. The army redeployed me for another tour. Emails became scarcer. Snail mail letters stopped entirely. Life… well, it happened. It pulled us apart until everything halted.
I reached out after my injury, desperate to hear his voice. He never responded.
I opened my eyes and picked up my head and saw Bennett had been staring. “Where didyougo just now?”
I had lost my erection.
Forced a contented look on my face, using all my acting chops to help sell the facade. It made me feel like a fraud, especially in front of someone like him.
Why did you stop talking to me? I had fallen in love with you. Did you love me, too?
I climbed into the front seat and started up the car. “Nowhere,” I said easily and drove him home.
ChapterTwelve
ABLACKMERCEDESEQE with the license plate “CLARKE” sat in the driveway of the house. I pulled around it and parked in my usual spot, and groaned. There was only one person I could think of that owned that car. Someone I hadn’t seen or heard from in over a decade.
James Clarke, my father’s younger brother. As I climbed out of my car, I recalled what the family lawyer had informed me of, how James would conspire to snatch the house away from me after my mother passed. I could only imagine what the two spoke of now.
I stormed my way inside through the side entrance. Two and a half days had passed since I saw Bennett on our date down by the river. We spoke often—too often, some might say—but his physical absence made me itch and I could think of no better way to express that than by laying into Uncle James.
I navigated the hallways of the house and softened my steps as I took the corner to the primary suite. The doors were open and I heard stern voices. I paused to listen in before revealing my presence.
“… incompetent, Cordelia. Prue thinks she understands how probate court works but she’s never been as close to it as I have.” My uncle’s baritone sounded similar to mine. “We can avoid the trouble of—”
“There isnothingto avoid, James,” my mother interrupted, “becauseyouare the one creating this so-calledtrouble.”
“Thereistrouble, Cordelia. See the logic in it. This house is so much more than either you, Connor, or me. There is a legacy here thatmustbe properly seen to. It is an undeniable fact that your son is woefully unprepared to oversee this property.” My mother provided a counterargument, but James spoke over her. “Hecannot continue the Clarke line. My brother was eldest and I understand that his son would inherit the property but, objectively, he is incapable of passing this on to a blood heir. Our family, this town, it issteepedin tradition and legacy. Will you throw that all away because of Darren’s wishes?”
Silence.
Then Cordelia spoke, her voice unwavering. “James. I would set fire to this house if my husband had asked it of me. Nothing, not you or some silly courtroom, will ever stand between what my husband wanted and what my son will receive.”
James scoffed derisively. “Has all this medication given you dementia, Cordelia? Are you—”
“That’s enough,” I said in my stage voice, a sound that filled the space that I stepped into. Both eyes darted to me.
James, as tall as me, wore a navy blue jacket with a white shirt and lavender-colored tie. His hair was a shock of silver, quite different from the dark brown I had remembered from my youth. He wore a pair of tortoiseshell glasses.
“Hi, Uncle James,” I said and stepped to the side of the door. “Goodbye, Uncle James.”
The man stared at me. The hint of a sneer tugged at his upper lip. “Connor. It’s good to see—”
“Good. Bye. Uncle. James.”
He straightened out his shoulders and shot a look at my mother. “I guess we’ll be seeing each other in court, then.”
“Oh, I’ll be long gone by then, James. And if my son knows how to do anything, it’s surviving. Good luck to you in that regard.”
James left without another word.
When I heard the front door slam shut, I turned to my mother. She waved at me dismissively. “Darling, I’m tried. Dim the lights and let me rest for now.”
